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Wrong fucking move.

I’m across the room before he can react. I grab the back of his shirt and rip him away from Blair, throwing him hard enough that he crashes into the wall.

“Dean—” Blair calls from behind me.

I hear her. Barely.

All I can see is him. The man who put that fear in her eyes. The man who made her run. The man who thought he could come into her home and put his fucking hands on her again.

Ben pushes himself upright and wipes the blood from beneath his nose.

“So, you’re Dean,” he says before laughing.

The son of a bitch actually fucking laughs.

“That’s right.” I step between him and Blair. “And you’re about to have a really shitty night.”

Ben lunges toward me, and I punch him square in the face. Blood immediately pours from his nose as he stumbles backward. He tries to come at me again, so I drive my foot into his chest and send him crashing to the floor.

Good.

“Dean.”

Blair’s voice cuts through everything.

I turn and look at her properly for the first time. She’s shaking, her hair is everywhere, her lip is bleeding, and angry red marks are already forming around her neck.

But she’s standing.

Still fucking standing.

And suddenly, Ben doesn’t matter.

She does.

I cross the room in two steps. “Baby.”

My hands hover uselessly around her because I don’t know where she’s hurt or whether touching her will make it worse.

“Where did he hurt you?” I ask, looking over every inch of her. “Can you breathe?”

“Dean—”

“Blair, look at me.”

Her eyes finally meet mine. “I’m okay.”

She isn’t. Not even fucking close.

But she’s here. She’s standing in front of me, and she’s breathing.

I pull her carefully against my chest, and she folds into me. Her hands grip the back of my shirt as her entire body begins shaking harder.

Sirens grow louder outside.

Thank fuck.

“Police!” someone yells from the doorway. “Everyone put your hands where we can see them.”